


Your Friend, Walter

by jilloreilly



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Korean War, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sparky - Freeform, War, poor baby, radar is sad, someone love him please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilloreilly/pseuds/jilloreilly
Summary: The war hits a little too close to home for Radar. How does he cope with his first experience of losing a loved one to the violence? The incident unleashes a fear in Radar that he didn't know he had.





	Your Friend, Walter

“Hey, Sparky! Radar here!” Radar leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.  
“Hiya Radar,” the voice on the other side of the call was fading in and out a little more than usual. Something...some sort of static was blocking his words. Radar pulled the device away from his ear.  
“Hey, Sparky, what’s going on over there? Who turned up the war?”  
“That’s why I’m calling, actually,” Radar struggled to make out his words, “I thought I’d alert you folks at the 4077 to be ready for a whole lot of wounded comin’ atcha. We’re fighting! Lord almighty, Radar, we—“  
With a sharp click, Radar’s friend was disconnect. Shocked, Radar’s fingers scrambled for the wires surrounding him, sitting up with start. “Sparky? Sparky! Hey, Sparky!” He dialed faster than he knew his fingers could move. “Hello? Hello, Sparky?”  
“Radar!” Radar slumped in his chair, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “Sorry about that, it’s getting heavy down here. Listen, now, I’m gonna go ahead and read you the names of our boys that need medical attention first, okay? You boys better find them when they arrive fast as you can, ‘cause I’m not even certain they’ll survive the trip over.”  
“Okay, give them to me.” Radar leaned forward, a pencil poised in his hand.  
“Daniel Sharpe. Serial number 5543257. Got that? Okay, John West, serial number 9348237. And Joseph Leahy, serial number 2347180. You got them down? Remember, Radar, these boys are top priority.”  
“Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Sparky.”  
“No prob—hey! Keep it down out there!” Sparky hollered. “Sorry Radar, they just keep coming. It’s—“ once again, Sparky was cut off by a loud BANG that nearly caused Radar to fall out of his chair.  
“Sparky! You okay? Sparky?” Radar’s heart was pounding. He fought the urge to dial again, knowing Sparky probably had other things to worry about. Besides, he had some information to give the doctors.  
Radar read over the names he’d been given one more time. He’d hardly registered them as Sparky was talking, he’d been so focused on writing. Daniel Sharpe, John West, and...  
Radar froze.  
Joseph Leahy.  
He knew that name.  
Growing up, his best friend in Ottumwa had been named Joseph Leahy. Joseph was a year older than him, and was drafted right after Radar graduated high school. Surely that wasn’t the same...no, Radar reassured himself, that’s a popular name, right? Yes, yes, of course is it. It has to be. His best friend, Joe Leahy, couldn’t be half-dead. Why? Because Joe promised they’d get together and visit after the war was over. So he couldn’t die. No, it couldn’t be him.  
If only Radar believed a word he told himself.  
Joe had been stationed near Sparky. He’d written Radar once. After that letter, they’d gotten to busy to keep up with each other, but Radar knew that.  
Joseph Leahy was the Joe he’d grown up with.  
And he was dying.  
The pit in Radar’s stomach was growing by the second. He promised they’d visit when the war was over! He promised!  
Radar stood up shakily, wanting to be as far from that damn radio as possible. Why did he always have to be the one to get and deliver the news? Who had been the one to tell everybody about Henry Blake? He had. It was always him. All that weight on his shoulders was crushing him slowly. He could feel it. He stumbled through the door of his office. He wasn't sure where he was going. He was just...going. Blinded by memories dancing through his swirling mind, he tripped over his feet, finding solace in the nearest supply tent. It was dark, silent, and he wasn't sure what else to do with himself.  
Radar’s back was pressed flat against the wall as, finally, one tear spilled slowly over his cheek. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to breathe. He wanted so desperately for someone, anyone to find him, wrap him up, make all that pain just...go. He wanted that feeling of being safe, of being loved, of being protected that he hadn’t felt since he left home. He wanted somebody’s arms around him, telling him it would be okay...and yet, he knew nobody was coming.  
Nobody was coming to save him.  
Nobody would even notice him, this pathetic little boy all alone in the darkness.  
Nobody would want this sniveling little mess. And how could Radar blame them?  
He slid slowly downwards, crumpling to the floor. As soon as his bottom bumped the empty, frigid ground, a chill ran through Radar’s entire body.  
Finally, he let out the sob strangling his throat. Softly but heart-wrenchingly nonetheless, Radar whimpered into his hands, at last giving way to the rivulet of tears that had welled up in his eyes, spilling down those youthfully-chubby cheeks that were so often seen framing a sweet smile.  
A moonlit silhouette appeared in the door, casting a long shadow across the room. Unknown to Radar, whose round face was hidden in his hands as he sobbed, the shape stepped silently inside, taking in the image of poor Radar, curled up and trembling in the cold.  
“Radar?”  
The kind voice drew Radar up, swiping his sleeve clumsily across his face. His large, watery eyes fell upon B.J Hunnicutt standing over him. Humiliation rose from his belly into his cheeks, spreading a rosy blush over them. No one was supposed to see him this way.  
Still...had someone actually found him?  
“Radar! What happened to you?! Are you hurt? Who—“  
“Oh, sir!” Radar gasped, “I’m okay. Gee, I’m sorry. I was just...well...”  
“Radar, I want you to tell me exactly what happened.” B.J knelt down to the floor, speaking gently and kindly. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with the kid...  
“I was just...I mean...I didn’t...er...” Radar stammered embarrassedly, tripping over his tongue. His cheeks reddened further.  
“Radar, I can see you. I can see the tears on your face, so stop trying to hide them, I can see that you’re shaking, so stop trying to stop it. I’ve already seen. Now tell me what’s the matter.”  
Radar sniffled loudly. Finally, a sort of anger seemed to fall over him, taking B.J aback; anger looked absolutely foreign on that cherubic face. “I-I-I k-know one of the b-boys on the t-table!” He stuttered through stray tears and hiccups. “He was my b-best friend my whole life in Ottumwa! A-And n-now he might...” Radar let out an involuntary jagged gasp, eyes filling with tears again. “It’s not fair, sir! It’s not fair! This war keeps t-t-taking everything away a-and I c-can’t take it! I know I’m s-s-stupid and letting you all d-down but I wanna go home!” At this profession, he suddenly broke down sobbing, not even caring that he was in front of someone else.  
“Whoa! Hey, hey! Radar, it’s okay!” B.J put both hands on Radar’s shoulders, leaning towards him. Radar put his hands over his face, shaking like a leaf. “Easy, okay? Take it easy. It’s okay to be homesick. I promise.”  
“B-b-but n-none of you guys e-ever get this upset! W-what’s wrong with me?!” Radar’s voice broke, face crumpling as he hugged his knees into his chest.  
“Wrong with you? What’s wrong with you for being sad about a war? Radar, that means you’re human! What brought this on, kid?” B.J pried Radar’s hands from his tear-streaked face.  
“M-My best friend...Ottumwa...table, surgery...dead?!” Radar squeaked, stuttering mindlessly towards B.J’s confused face.  
“What?” B.J asked incredulously.  
Radar took a deep breath, wiping his large eyes. “One of the boys on the table wa...is my best friend growing up in Ottumwa. And we always said that when we both survived the war, we’d go back to being friends and everything would be okay like it used to be. But now he’s hurt. I never thought...I just didn’t know it would be this way.”  
“Well, Radar, I was in there. I’m a doctor, y’know.” B.J smiled, brushing a stray tear from Radar’s cheek. “What’s your friend’s name? I can tell you how he’s doing.”  
“Oh...d-did anyone, um, did anyone...did anyone not make it?” Radar asked in a small voice.  
“Well, yeah, we lost a few people. That’s inevitable sometimes when there’s this many wounded.”  
“His name’s Joseph Leahy. ‘Course, I’d only ever call him Joe. Once, I tried calling him ‘Joey,’ but he hated that, so I’d only do it when I wanted to annoy…” Radar trailed off as his eyes landed on B.J’s sad, compassion-filled face. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”  
“I’m so sorry, Radar.”  
“That...oh. So...w-wha—how?”  
“He got shot very close to his heart. So close, that it was too dangerous to go in and try and remove the bullet. He went pretty quickly, Radar. He was passed out most of the time. I don’t think he felt too much pain. I really believe that.”  
Moments ago, Radar had been hysterical. Now, he was frozen, eyes large as the moon and mouth open in the shape of an ‘O’. He stared at B.J, chest beginning to rise and fall unevenly. Slowly, his face crumpled. Jagged breaths turned to gentle sobbing. His hands lifted slowly to his face once again, letting his head fall gently into them. He cried almost silently, shoulders shaking tremulously.  
B.J wondered for a moment if perhaps he should leave the poor kid to mourn his friend by himself.  
Nah, he’d already been sitting by himself in the dark for who knows how long…Christ, the kid was barely out of high school. His cheeks were smeared with tear-tracks, and his nose was red and raw.  
B.J slapped him on the back and held out his hand to help him up. “C'mon. Let’s get out of here, okay? It’s getting chilly out.”  
“O-okay.” Radar looked up shyly, hesitating to take B.J’s hand. As soon as he was on his feet, B.J slung his arm around Radar’s shoulders. No one over here could bring out the protectiveness in him like Radar could. If anybody hurt that kid...they’d have some hell to deal with.  
The two walked side-by-side into the cool, dark night. It was light out when I went inside, Radar thought briefly. He didn’t think anyone would notice.  
Well, it only took a few hours.  
Just as the two crossed the path, a truck pulled up, headlights casting eerie shadows over the ground. B.J recognized it immediately. The coroner’s truck. Dear Lord. B.J was about to steer Radar away, but he’d already seen the vehicle.  
He froze in the light, watching with huge eyes as the truck pulled to a stop.  
“Radar...you don’t have to—“  
“Um...Cap’n Hunnicutt, sir?”  
“Yeah?”  
“D-Do you think I could say goodbye? I mean...he’s...he’ll be...”  
“You really want to see that?”  
“Yeah. I gotta say g’bye.”  
“If you want to, of course you can.”  
“Do you think...do you think you could come with me?”  
B.J smiled. “Sure I will.” Radar smiled shyly, brushing a tear from his eye.  
“Thank you, sir.”  
Four men came stoically from the OR, two each carrying a stretcher. On it, a body lay covered by a white sheet. Radar tensed visibly, feeling B.J’s arm on his.  
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Radar walked slowly up to them, closely followed by B.J. In a small voice, he asked, “w-which one is Joseph Leahy?”  
One of the men silently pointed to the second body. Radar nodded and stepped towards it. “Thank you, sir.” After another deep breath, he began.  
“Hey, Joe...er, well, I mean...it’s me, Walter. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that you were my best friend growing up. We, ah, we had lotsa fun and I’ll always remember it. Like that time you taught me how to throw a football! Or when we’d work on the farms together. Those were good days. Well, anyway...thanks, Joey. I had a real swell time with you. Um...well, goodbye, Joe. I guess I’ll see ya someday later. Hope Heaven is everything you want it to be, full of football and pretty girls. Your friend, Walter”  
Radar stood still, biting his bottom lip as the bodies were loaded onto the truck. Headlights flashed in the darkness, catching their light on the boy’s wide eyes. Away it drove, leaving a cloud of dust in place of a lost friend. Radar mouthed silently after it, one final goodbye before he turned around and promptly began to cry.  
“Oh, Radar…” B.J quickly took poor Radar in his arms, holding him as Radar, for once, not resisting the comfort, let his head fall against B.J’s chest.  
“It isn’t fair. He was a good guy.” He whispered into B.J’s shirt. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair…”  
“I know. I know. You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not.” B.J smoothed Radar’s unruly curls down from under his cap. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
“I w-wish I could go home.”  
“I do too. It’s okay. It’s okay.” B.J led Radar through the path and into his and Hawkeye Pierce’s tent. He wasn’t about to leave him alone for the night. He’d explain what happened to Hawkeye, and they’d take turns fawning over the kid as long as he needed it.


End file.
